Constellations
by This Girl Maybe
Summary: You don't want long conversations; you want normality, and essays and most of all, you want your mom. Sam Carter backstory.


**Constellations**

Summary: You don't want long conversations; you want normality, and essays and most of all, you want your mom. Sam Carter backstory.

A/N: Sam backstory. I've seen people bemoaning the fact that the Stargate fandom has a lack of backstories, so here is my very tiny, and insignificant, addition. Hope you like it. Let me know either way.

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You can feel their eyes on you, staring at you like the prize exhibition, as you shuffle down the hall, glaring intently at the floor. Your files are pulled to your chest tightly, creating a barrier that seems impenetrable. Your blonde unstyled hair falls over your face slightly, hiding it from view. The atmosphere is claustrophobic, the walls bearing in upon you like an oppressive cage. As usual, your tempermental locker requires a quiet slam on the door to open, and you grab the sports kit languishing on the bottom, unwashed. It still smells from two weeks ago when you played hockey in the musty rain, but you haven't had time to wash it. Laundry is the last thing on your father's mind. You need to tell him that when your stomach rumbles it means you need food, and that stale bread isn't going to sate your appetite. You have to remind him to buy groceries soon. Soon. But not tonight.

The corridor has cleared slightly by the time you turn back round, but there are still gazes upon you. Paranoia takes over and you wonder what they are whispering about you, about Mark. You can imagine their horror that you are back so early, and meaningless sympathies expressed without a genuine thought, almost like a reflex.

There's a tap on your shoulder, and you turn to look at whoever has cut their way through to your consciousness. She is all curly dark hair and deep dark eyes that give her a tropical beauty aura, negated by the textbooks hugged to her front, and the intense look in her expression that hides far more than it reveals. "I was really sorry to hear about you mom," She says, breaking the silence and you can't be sure whether you want to hug her or push her into the mud and run away. Your friends stood a sensible distance back and let you grieve with Tracy's mom delivering a card to you the day before with a bear on the frontThis girl didn't have the same tact to approach carefully; it was your third day back at school, and she had been the first to say anything remotely relating to your mother.

"Thanks," You reply, standing awkwardly almost on one leg. You fiddle with the files in your arms, and one of the sharp edges of the paper cuts your finger.

"I know what its like..."She began, leaning against the locker next to yours and you sigh internally; she is preparing for a long conversation. You used to sense the same feeling with your mom when she wanted to ask you about why your grades had dropped and whether you'd _really_ ripped up Mark's homework for telling Tom Grigson you liked him. You don't want long conversations; you want normality, and essays and most of all, you want your mom, "My dad died two years ago."

"Right," You say in the small silence before she begins again. You don't know what to say or how to react. Apart from your mother, you'd experienced death only in the form of Mark's hamster dying when you were ten, and when Geena Martin's dog had to be put down. This whole experience is, thankfully, new to you, "I-I'm sorry..." You add uncomfortably, unsure of whether she even wants your sympathies.

She turns to look at you, her eyes showing a momentary flash of grief. You recognise it, and you wonder if that is how you look now, "Thanks," Her voice continues quietly, her eyes dancing quickly over the passing students who don't give either of you a second thought, "It gets better y'know. I promise."

You don't believe her but you don't question the validity of her words. Somewhere, there's a part of you that wants it to be true. You answer in the only way possible, "I hope so."

"My name's Jenny by the way," She sticks out her hand in a formal gesture that surprises you; only your elderly uncles or your father's work colleagues ever greet you like that.

You shake it quickly, muttering your own name, "I'm Sam Carter."

"Nice to meet you Sam," She says with a smile spreading over her face, "You're in my biology class next I think...."

"I wouldn't know," You reply with a small smile; school had only just started when your mother...passed away. You hadn't had time to even look at your timetable.

"You can come and sit with me if you like."

"Thanks..." You reply, following her down the hall as you walk towards the science block where the laboratories are. On the back of her bag, you read a small badge which reads; _"Geology rocks!" _You smile at the pure randomness of the small button, and tap her on the shoulder, "You like geology?" She frowns before you point to her bag upon which she grins.

"Yeah..." She hangs back so she's walking next to you and there's a mixture of fear and hope as you realise this is the longest conversation you've had for two weeks. Her whole face lights up as she replies, "I'm going to be a famous paleontologist when I grow up." Grown up is a phrase common with your friends, speculating on the lives you'll have once you've left high school and become an _adult, _"How about you?"

You see a poster tacked to the wall of constellations and of supernovas, bright colours mixing and whirling together like sudden flashes, "I'm going to fly to the stars."  
**The End**


End file.
